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Wait a minute…stage. That’s right. He’d said he’d help with the stage construction.

He lifted a shoulder. “What do you want to know?”

“Well, I?—”

“Wait a minute.” Russell Smith, the owner of Smith’s Hardware, cut her off as he pushed to his feet. He waved a hand toward Asher. “What does he know about stage construction?”

Quite a lot, actually. But, of course, he remained quiet. He didn’t need to start answering nosy questions.

“He works with horses. You need a professional. I can donate lumber from the hardware store in exchange for advertising and construct a stage in no time.” Russell hitched up his belted jeans already nearly to his armpits.

Asher slid out of the booth and planted his feet on the wooden floor. Hands on his hips, he faced the older man with a graying comb-over who had at least thirty years and fifty pounds on Asher. “With all due respect, I don’t think a wooden stage is the best answer.”

Russell swiveled and glared at him. “And again, I ask—what experience do you have?”

Ignoring him, Asher focused on Dani. “A modular stage made of aluminum would be lightweight, movable, yet sturdy enough for performers. They’re compact and portable, so you could store it effortlessly and reuse it again if you’d like to have another concert in the future. Plus, we could have a non-skid surface that remains safe for the performers.”

Dani eyed him and bit the corner of her lip as if processing his words.

Russell, on the other hand, waved a hand. “Aluminum? A wooden stage would be much stronger.”

“And heavier.” Asher cut in. He turned back to Dani. “Talk to Ariel—see which type she’d prefer. I can almost guarantee she’ll take an aluminum stage over a wooden one.”

Russell rolled his eyes and didn’t attempt to mask his disdain. “You talk like you know what performers want.”

“That’s because I—” Asher clamped his lips shut. He lifted his hands, then dropped them at his sides. “I’m not going to argue about this. Dani, you decide, and I’ll help out whenever I can.”

He needed to keep the peace if he wanted the islanders’ support in getting his family’s touring company going again.

He slid back into his booth and pressed a shoulder against the wall.

Dani’s lips thinned as she twisted her hands in front of her. She caught his gaze, then looked at Liam, who leaned against the bar with his hands tucked under his arms. “That sounds great, and maybe eventually, we could do that. Right now, though, I’m not sure we will have the funds to invest in a stage of that caliber.”

Russell flashed him a triumphant grin, then took his own seat.

Asher’s hands curled into fists. Another time, and he wouldn’t have hesitated decking the jerk and wiping the smarmy smile off his face. But Asher’s brawling days were behind him. He couldn’t react every time someone annoyed him.

The meeting continued for another forty-five minutes, but Asher paid more attention to the bottle labels on the glass shelves behind the bar.

The desire for a shot of Jack made his teeth itch.

He needed to get out of there, but he couldn’t leave without anyone noticing.

Thankfully, Dani and Liam wrapped things up with the promise of another meeting.

One he’d most likely skip.

He slid out of his seat a second time and tried to skirt between the booths and the rows of tables. A hand clamped on his upper arm.

He turned and found Dani looking at him with an imploring look. “Hey, you got a minute?”

He jerked his head toward the door. “Not in here. I need some air. The walls feel like they’re closing in.”

She nodded, then turned toward the door. He followed her outside.

The bright streetlamp haloed over her, stripping her blonde hair to platinum. She glanced at him, dropped her gaze to her feet, then refocused her attention on him. “Sorry for Russell in there.”

Asher lifted a shoulder. “No need to apologize. You’re not responsible for that jerk.”